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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512623">warm you like the sunshine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/some_stars/pseuds/some_stars'>some_stars</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(it's a brief oblique reference to past events), Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Service Top Geralt, Spanking, Sub Jaskier | Dandelion, Subdrop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:21:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512623</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/some_stars/pseuds/some_stars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why do you go with people who hurt you?"</p><p>He looked at Jaskier, and kept looking at him after he looked away and the smile dropped off his face. After a long silence, Jaskier said, in a much more tired voice, "I don't exactly have a lot of options, Geralt."</p><p>On the face of it it wasn't true--Jaskier could find a willing young woman or man in any half-crowded tavern without lifting a finger--but that wasn't what he meant, of course. He meant when he needed...that particular sort of person. That particular experience.</p><p>Without the slightest forethought or intention, Geralt frowned and said, "You have me."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>158</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Abby's Witcher Collection, wiedźmin</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>warm you like the sunshine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GDmuXpbdcM">Your Misfortune</a> by Mike Doughty.</p><p>This was originally for the prompt "Jaskier subdropping after a hookup, coming back to Geralt who has to take care of him", and then it just...grew, as these things do. Also I wrote it partly as a challenge to myself to see if I could write Jaskier as a sub (I knew I could not write Geralt as a dom, but who doesn't love a good service top). You may judge for yourself if I succeeded.</p><p>Please note: there's some stuff in this fic that is not necessarily safe IRL; please just assume Geralt is being careful even if I don't mention it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time it happened, a couple years into their acquaintance, Jaskier had disappeared after supper to tumble the innkeeper, a buxom woman who looked just old enough to be his mother, if she'd had an adventurous youth. </p><p>Geralt had barely noticed at the time, because Jaskier was always going off with someone or other. He'd just gone back up to their room and gone to bed, only to wake a few hours later to the sound of the door opening. He looked to check that it was Jaskier, and when he saw that it was he almost went back to sleep.</p><p>Except something was wrong. He couldn't tell at first how he knew that, but gradually the details rose to his consciousness: Jaskier's breathing was off, uneven. He smelled, beneath the haze of sex, like distress. And he wasn't getting into bed, just sitting on the edge of it, hunched over his lap.</p><p>It wasn't, Geralt thought, really any of his business. Jaskier wasn't bleeding, wasn't afraid or in danger, and Geralt didn't exactly make a habit of inquiring after his feelings. </p><p>There was something about the smell of misery mingled with the smell of sex that jarred him, though, and he couldn't leave it alone.</p><p>"What's wrong?" he said. It came out harsher than he meant it to, and Jaskier jumped and looked back at him.</p><p>"Geralt!" His voice sounded thick, and he swallowed visibly. "You're awake."</p><p>"You're upset," Geralt said, looking at him carefully. His eyes might have been a little red, but it was hard to tell colors in the dark. </p><p>Jaskier seemed to pull in on himself under the scrutiny. "I'm fine."</p><p>"What are you doing back here?"</p><p>Jaskier shrugged and smiled crookedly. "Lissi can't get a good night's sleep when she's sharing a bed, apparently." He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Sorry I woke you."</p><p>There was a dark mark encircling his wrist. That was probably red too, Geralt thought, and sat up, feeling suddenly awake. "Who hurt you?"</p><p>Jaskier stared at him, confusion plain on his face. "Who...what?"</p><p>"Your wrists," Geralt said, because he could see the other one now too, raw and darkened to match. His mind raced as he searched for any sign of injury he might have missed, even as he struggled to figure out what kind of attack would have left Jaskier free and able to walk back to his own room.</p><p>"Oh," Jaskier said, "hurt like—right. Of course." He sighed; it sounded wearier than his half smile seemed to indicate. "Don't worry, Geralt, nobody really hurt me. I wanted it."</p><p>"You..." The smell of sex suddenly seemed sharper on his palate. "Oh," Geralt said, feeling stupid. Of course he wasn't injured; he was just playing some kind of sex game. Which <i>really</i> wasn't any of Geralt's business. Except—</p><p>"You're upset," he said again, because Jaskier <i>was.</i> It was obvious looking at him, listening to him, and his scent was a blunt shout of misery, utterly devoid of the usual satisfaction and happiness that hung around him the morning after bedding someone new.</p><p>For a moment Jaskier just looked at him, seemingly at a loss. Geralt had hardly ever seen him like this, like the quick-running stream of his mind had dried up, leaving him slow and stumbling. Then he sighed, a long tired sound, and lay down in bed, pulling his knees up close to his chest and closing his eyes. "I just get sad sometimes," he said quietly. "After...that."</p><p>It didn't make sense, but it was an answer, and Geralt felt a strong urge to give him, at least, his privacy. "If you're all right," he said, lying back down, feeling strangely uncertain.</p><p>There was another long sigh from the other bed, and a longer silence. "I'll be fine," Jaskier said eventually, and Geralt told himself to leave it at that.</p><p>Not long after he smelled the acrid salt of tears, but no sound accompanied them, only a barely audible hitching of breath. <i>Not your business,</i> he reminded himself, and fell uneasily asleep.</p><p>—</p><p>Jaskier was fine the next morning. He looked like he hadn't slept much, with dark circles under his eyes, but he was in his usual good humor, chattering away almost from the moment Geralt woke him. The marks around his wrists were deep red but faded and would be gone entirely by the next day, Geralt reckoned. He could tell they were still sensitive, though, because Jaskier kept touching them, in an absent way like he didn't really realize what he was doing. </p><p>It made something stir deep inside him, the way Jaskier's fingers idly stroked the red circles all morning, but he couldn't begin to identify what that something was, and he didn't try very hard. It was just something else he knew about Jaskier now, another piece of information about the peculiar man who'd insisted on inserting himself in Geralt's life and was having frankly baffling success at it.</p><p>He noticed it more, though, after that. How, sure, Jaskier would go off with anyone of an evening, but sometimes he looked for a certain type—often, though not always, a man; sometimes on the larger side, and rarely younger than him; people who looked at him with a certain kind of glint in their eye. When he left with them, they'd usually have a hand on him already—the small of his back, the back of his neck—and the next time Geralt saw him, there was always some sign. Marks on his wrists, almost always, though usually faint. Bruises that peeked out from under his shirt, not infrequently.</p><p>It didn't always make him...sad, in that strange way. Often he'd show up the next morning acting perfectly normal. Sometimes he would come back to their room late at night smelling sweetly of bliss and contentment, humming under his breath. Geralt slept well on those nights, the scent and sound of Jaskier's happiness soothing some primal part of him.</p><p>But sometimes he'd creep back a few hours later, silent and still, and curl up in his bed and cry without making a sound. For a while Geralt just grit his teeth and let it be, every time, breathing in the distress-alarm-pain haze and pretending to sleep. Jaskier wasn't exactly shy about asking for help, after all; if he wanted something from Geralt, he would have said so the first time. </p><p>And anyway, there was nothing meaningful Geralt could give him. No one came to a witcher when they wanted a hug or soft words or someone to stroke their hair while they cried. It would have been absurd to offer such things, no matter how much, as the years crept by, Geralt thought he might want to.</p><p>His resolve held for almost eight more years, until one night—a few months after the disaster betrothal in Cintra, a few days after Jaskier had joined him again on the road—when the inn they stopped at could only offer them a single bed, though it was large enough. It was far from the first time they'd had to share, and since Jaskier spent his nights in other company as often as not, Geralt gave it no thought at all. </p><p>Jaskier played a lively set after they ate, and halfway through his performance Geralt noticed someone else watching him more intently than the other patrons in the inn. It was a man, about Jaskier's height but with a slimmer build, black hair, perhaps five years older. His gaze was heated and steady, and before long Jaskier was returning it—singing whole verses directly to him, although, Geralt noticed, he always glanced away first. The heat in the man's eyes grew bolder, and a faint flush crept up Jaskier's cheeks.</p><p>Geralt watched the man carefully as Jaskier's set drew to an end. Of course there was no way to tell by looking at someone how they treated their bed partners; Geralt had seen acts of the most exquisite cruelty perpetrated by the most genial of people. But he watched nonetheless, because you could tell, sometimes. If you knew what to look for.</p><p>Jaskier finished his last song, bowed profusely, and—after collecting his money—made a beeline for the dark-haired man. He murmured something that got lost in the noise of the crowd, then sat down beside him, eyes dark and inviting. The man leaned close and murmured something in his ear, one hand finding its way to Jaskier's thigh and squeezing. Jaskier smiled at him, a private sort of smile that stung something inside Geralt.</p><p>In a low voice that was perfectly audible to Geralt's ears, he purred, "That's exactly what I was hoping you'd say." They stood and, side by side, headed for the stairs, the man resting a heavy hand between Jaskier's shoulderblades.</p><p>So Geralt would have the bed to himself, then—assuming all went well. Which he would assume, because anything else was none of his business.</p><p>He dozed more than slept, waking up several times to the muffled hum of voices in other rooms. Usually he could block out that sort of thing when he slept, but his concentration was lacking tonight. So he was mostly awake when the door creaked open and Jaskier slipped in. He cracked one eye to look at him in the dark, where Jaskier couldn't see him looking.</p><p>It was a bad night; he could tell immediately, from the tightness in Jaskier's shoulders to the careful, deliberate pattern of his breathing. And the smell, of course, that familiar cocktail of sex and unhappiness. Geralt's stomach churned, the way it did every time Jaskier came back hurt, and he tried to swallow the insistent urge to <i>do</i> something, <i>help</i> him. The way he did every time.</p><p>Jaskier sat down on the edge of the bed. Geralt had never been this close to him when he was like this, close enough to see the minute shivers that ran across his body. He watched as Jaskier sat there for a minute, elbows on his knees, breathing shallowly and fast, before exhaling a slow and shaky breath and lying down with his back still to Geralt, curling in on himself. He was less than a foot away.</p><p>It wasn't until he smelled the tears that Geralt finally muttered, "Fuck," and clambered over to fit himself against Jaskier's back, slinging one arm over in a rough embrace. Jaskier didn't protest the hug, or even question it, which was maybe the most alarming part. He just clutched at Geralt's arm with a fierce grip and said in a hoarse voice, "Sorry...I didn't mean..."</p><p>Geralt squeezed him tighter. "It's fine." He was hardly any good at comforting words, and he didn't try. He just held Jaskier as tightly as he seemed to want, and threw a leg over him too for good measure, because it seemed to calm him down more. At first he felt remarkably stupid and strange—he'd rarely been so close to Jaskier, outside a few truly cold nights in the woods—but before long Jaskier's heartbeat began to slow, and the harsh chemical scent of distress dispersed steadily. </p><p>Geralt took a deep breath finally, feeling his own muscles relax. He hadn't realized he was tense. He lifted his face from the back of Jaskier's neck and said, "Better?"</p><p>"Please don't go yet," Jaskier said immediately, in a small voice.</p><p>"Not going anywhere," Geralt said, and gave him a squeeze. "Just checking in."</p><p>"I..." Jaskier exhaled slowly. "Okay. Yeah. It's better."</p><p>"Okay," Geralt said, feeling a rush of satisfaction that left him warm all over. He hadn't fucked it up, at least. "Tell me when you want to stop."</p><p>Jaskier mumbled an agreement, and as Geralt closed his eyes to wait he suddenly realized he was exhausted. More so than his sleepless night should have caused; he felt as if he'd run for hours. He didn't understand it, but he gave in to it willingly, and fell asleep to the sound of Jaskier's slow breaths and level heartbeat.</p><p>When he woke, neither he nor Jaskier had moved, but he could tell Jaskier was awake, and anxious. He rolled over onto his back—ignoring the pang he felt through his whole body at letting go—and thought about how he should deal with this.</p><p>"Good morning," Jaskier said, and the brightness in his voice was only half false. He turned to look at Geralt with a crooked smile. "Sorry about...well, you know. That whole business."</p><p>Probably Geralt should have said, <i>It's fine,</i> or <i>I didn't mind.</i> But when he opened his mouth, what he said instead was, "Why do you go with people who hurt you?"</p><p>Jaskier looked taken aback, but only for a second. "Ah, well, a little pain just enhances the—"</p><p>"I don't mean that kind of hurt," Geralt said, cutting him off, "and you know it."</p><p>He looked at Jaskier, and kept looking at him after he looked away and the smile dropped off his face. After a long silence, Jaskier said, in a much more tired voice, "I don't exactly have a lot of options, Geralt."</p><p>On the face of it it wasn't true—Jaskier could find a willing young woman or man in any half-crowded tavern without lifting a finger—but that wasn't what he meant, of course. He meant when he needed...that particular sort of person. That particular experience.</p><p>Without the slightest forethought or intention, Geralt frowned and said, "You have me."</p><p>The words hung heavily in the air between them, and Geralt didn't know who was more surprised. For a few seconds Jaskier was utterly still.</p><p>"I'm sorry," he said at last, still not looking at Geralt, eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling. "I'm going to need you to clarify that. Are you suggesting that when I want—" He seemed to briefly fight a battle with himself and lose. "When I want to be <i>sexually dominated,</i> I should consider you as a partner?"</p><p>When he put it like that, of course it sounded absurd, but some stubborn part of Geralt refused to back down. "You could," he said.</p><p>Now Jaskier looked at him, and his eyes flashed with annoyance bordering on anger. "Do you even know what I do with those people?"</p><p>He didn't, really, but he'd seen enough clues to put together the basics. "They tie you up," he said, "and hurt you, and fuck you."</p><p>"They fuck me," Jaskier repeated. "Which you've never shown the slightest interest in doing, so you'll excuse me if I don't want your misguided pity."</p><p>"It wouldn't be <i>pity,</i>" Geralt said, stung. "You're—you know you're attractive."</p><p>He'd never quite let himself think about that attractiveness in relation to himself before, to be sure—not since the earliest days of their acquaintance when Jaskier had flirted relentlessly, in the idiotically charming way boys fresh into manhood flirted, and Geralt had seriously considered giving in for a night until it became clear that Jaskier intended to stick around, in his bed or out of it. That made the prospect of a casual tumble far more complicated, and he'd put the matter out of his mind entirely. Soon enough Jaskier had given him up as a lost cause and that had simply been that—at least, until now.</p><p>"Attractive <i>to you?</i>" Jaskier said, eyebrows raised. "Because if so, you're very good at hiding it." He stared at Geralt for a minute, then sighed, dropping his face into his hand. "What am I saying, you're very good at hiding everything. Fuck." His face, when he looked back at Geralt, was earnest and open. "You really want to have sex with me?"</p><p>"I wouldn't mind," Geralt said, and then, because that sounded insultingly weak, he added, "I'd like to." It was true, after all. The days of worrying about things with Jaskier getting too complicated were long past; they already were, irrevocably, and it wasn't such a terrible state of affairs as he'd once feared.</p><p>"Huh." Jaskier sat up and leaned heavily back against the headboard. "Well. All right. That's...nice to know, I guess. But that still doesn't mean...do you really want to do all that? The tying up and the hurting? No offense, but it never struck me as your thing."</p><p>Geralt shrugged. "You need it," he said, and if he was trying to convince himself as much as Jaskier—well, it was working. "And you need it from someone who won't..." Carefully, he tried out various words in his mind, before settling on, "Upset you."</p><p>Jaskier sat quietly for a minute, thoughts flickering visibly across his face. Geralt waited with, he was surprised to find, a measure of anxiety. Somehow over the last couple minutes it had become <i>important</i> that Jaskier allow him to do this. It was as if the past almost-decade of low-grade worry had been sharpened into a keen point, and the thought of things continuing as they had been was unbearable.</p><p>"Well," Jaskier said at last, "I can't say the thought of you ravishing me isn't appealing. So what the hell." He let out a slightly shaky breath and grinned. "I'm not wrong, though, that you've never done anything like this before?"</p><p>Geralt shook his head. Prostitutes didn't tend to offer such exotic services, and the few lovers he'd had in his younger days, back when he'd still thought such relationships might be possible for him, had had largely conventional tastes.</p><p>"But you could tell me what to do," he suggested.</p><p>Jaskier smirked. "That's sort of the opposite of how it's generally done."</p><p>"I meant now," he said, a little exasperated. "Tell me what you like, so I'll know."</p><p>It didn't seem like an outlandish request, but it left Jaskier flustered and biting his lip for a moment while Geralt waited.</p><p>"Okay," Jaskier said finally, and took a deep breath. "What do I like. Well. I guess the big one is I like not being in control. I like...when someone does something to me, or makes me do something, and I don't have a choice."</p><p>Geralt's stomach lurched. "You want to be forced?"</p><p>He shook his head. "Not exactly. I mean, some people like that, but I don't think you're one of them, are you?"</p><p>Geralt felt obscurely insulted, a little, but mostly relieved. No matter if it was what Jaskier needed, he knew he didn't have it in him to hold him down and fuck him while he struggled to get away.</p><p>"Not forced," Jaskier went on. "Controlled. Like—well, for instance, I wouldn't come until you let me." His face went pink as he said it and he paused. "Sorry, this is just horribly embarrassing and I've never actually talked about it before." He shot Geralt a weak smile.</p><p>"I can't do it to you if I don't know what it is," Geralt pointed out, and Jaskier breathed in sharply and turned pinker still.</p><p>"Fair enough, fair enough. Well, that's really—that's sort of the main point of it all, I guess. And that's what the being tied up part is about, too. Giving up control."</p><p>Geralt thought about the marks he'd seen painted on Jaskier's skin so many times—on the good mornings, too, the ones where he seemed to float, he was so happy. "Do you want me to hurt you?"</p><p>"I mean—if you don't mind?" He glanced at Geralt uncertainly. "You don't have to."</p><p>The consideration touched something soft in Geralt's chest, but he pressed on. "Do you like it?"</p><p>Jaskier seemed to study him then, searching his face for—who knew what. Finally he nodded. "Yes," he said. "I mean, don't punch me in the face, or kick me, or anything like that. But some kinds of pain are...good."</p><p>Every new question and answer seemed to make him shift uncomfortably and blush more. It made Geralt feel rather like he was interrogating a prisoner, and he considered giving up the questioning and just playing things by ear as best he could to spare them both the discomfort.</p><p>Then his nose twitched as he caught the scent—faint, but distinct—of arousal on the air. Jaskier licked his lips again, his gaze flicking back to Geralt, and Geralt remembered the first thing he'd said. <i>When someone makes me do something...when I don't have a choice.</i></p><p>Thinking of this conversation as part of what he'd volunteered to do for Jaskier—part of this new responsibility to give him what he needed—made it abruptly much easier.</p><p>"Tell me," Geralt said—not harshly, but not kindly either, and Jaskier let out a long, slow breath, closing his eyes, as the arousal scent spiked a little.</p><p>"Well. Okay. Uh, I like—being spanked, or hit with a belt. Biting. Being held too hard, or too tight."</p><p>"So it bruises," Geralt said, and thought again of the blue and purple marks blooming under Jaskier's shirt on countless mornings.</p><p>"Yeah. And—rough fucking, so it hurts a little. Not too much. But I like that too." He took a deep breath and clapped his hands together. "And that's probably enough to be getting on with for now!" He looked over at Geralt and grinned, and the warm familiarity of it took Geralt by surprise. "I mean, this is your first time, after all." </p><p>Geralt let out a reluctant huff of amusement. "Ever the gentleman." Jaskier laughed, and the sound was reassuring. "What about after? So you don't get..." He searched for the right words to describe the spells of misery Jaskier seemed to be overcome by sometimes, the way it made Geralt's stomach plummet to listen to his careful breathing fall apart as he curled up by himself. "Sad," he finished finally, though it felt inadequate.</p><p>Jaskier glanced at him, looking as if he hadn't expected to be asked—though Geralt wasn't sure why, since it was the entire reason they were discussing this in the first place. "Just...be nice?" He shrugged. "Last night, that was good. And saying, you know, nice things."</p><p>Geralt would have preferred more specific guidance, but he could work with 'nice.' He nodded, and when no further questions followed Jaskier visibly relaxed. As Geralt watched the tension seep out of his body, though, he realized there was something else Jaskier hadn't mentioned.</p><p>"Is there anything I shouldn't do?"</p><p>Again, the question seemed to surprise Jaskier. "That's not usually something people ask me."</p><p>It was pointless to feel angry at people who weren't here, but the anger came anyway. "<i>I'm</i> asking."</p><p>"Okay," Jaskier said, with a placating note in his voice, and Geralt made an effort to relax his expression. "Well. I'd rather not bleed," he went on. "And, uh, I don't much care for being choked, or—" He held his hand up to his face so it covered his mouth and nose. His heart sped up as he did it, and Geralt tried as hard as he could not to imagine what he might be remembering.</p><p>When he felt like he could say it calmly, he said, "Is that all?"</p><p>Jaskier shrugged. "You'll stop if I say stop, won't you?"</p><p>"Of course," Geralt said, and kept his face perfectly even as he wondered who hadn't.</p><p>"Then there's nothing to worry about," Jaskier said, with a breezy smile. For the first time, Geralt felt a twist of guilt for not offering this sooner. How many bad memories had Jaskier gathered over the years—how many nights had he spent crying soundlessly—when Geralt had been right there the whole time?</p><p>He would get it right, he resolved. Jaskier was his friend, however difficult that might be to admit out loud, and he deserved nothing less.</p><p>—</p><p>Jaskier seemed to seek out his more...exotic assignations maybe once or twice a month, so Geralt didn't expect to hear any more about it for a couple of weeks at least. In fact, however, only three days passed from their morning conversation to Jaskier clearing his throat as they approached the next town.</p><p>"Geralt," Jaskier said delicately. "Do you remember that conversation we had recently about my, ah, predilections?" </p><p>For a second Geralt didn't, because he had put the whole matter on a shelf in his mind and hadn't expected to take it down and look at it yet. He made a vaguely questioning noise as his thoughts caught up.</p><p>"You know," Jaskier said. "My...proclivities? My inclinations?" He was just enjoying himself now. Geralt rolled his eyes.</p><p>"I remember," he said.</p><p>"Well." There was an unusual note of nervousness in his voice; when Geralt glanced down at him he was twisting his hands together, looking straight ahead. "I thought, perhaps...a town this size, I can probably make out pretty well, if they want my services, but I thought maybe...after?"</p><p>As he talked, a kind of quiet lightning stirred in Geralt's stomach. It was more excitement than he had expected to feel, but he only raised his eyebrows. "Already?"</p><p>"I've...been thinking about it," Jaskier said, sounding like he was confessing something, though Geralt wasn't sure what. For a minute he was silent, and Geralt was as well, as they walked past the first houses and down the widening main road toward the painted inn sign—a tabby cat curled around a black kettle—that beckoned them.</p><p>When Geralt dismounted outside the inn, Jaskier caught his gaze, looking hopeful and a little anxious. "So I take it you're amenable?"</p><p>Geralt nodded, and enjoyed Jaskier's answering smile more than seemed...proper, somehow.</p><p>"Lovely," Jaskier said. "I've got, ah, things—there's rope in my bag, and, well, you'll see it." And then he was off through the inn door, leaving Geralt to handle Roach and their bags, undoubtedly turning on the charm for the innkeeper to convince them of the merits of a bard for the night.</p><p>He set Roach up in the stable, taking an extra few minutes as much to settle his thoughts as to brush her and rub her down. When he went inside, Jaskier was already devouring a large bowl of stew, and Geralt joined him and was promptly served his own. Apparently the negotiations had included a meal for him as well—although, Jaskier informed him with a note of apology, they were still expected to pay for the room.</p><p>(Geralt, who had never stayed free in any inn, including ones in towns he had just saved from monsters, didn't think an apology was warranted, but only nodded and opened his purse.)</p><p>After they ate, and a small crowd had started to gather, Geralt didn't stay to watch him sing. He went upstairs and opened Jaskier's bag. Sure enough, he found a small coil of rope—good stuff once, but well worn by now—and he also found a small and unassuming set of leather cuffs with an iron ring attached. The cuffs looked pristine, and a quick sniff revealed no smell of sweat. New, then. The leather was much too high quality for practical use; it had clearly been designed for these sorts of games, although it was well-constructed enough, and he had no doubt it would hold. In an inner pocket of the bag he found also a small vial of oil, the purpose of which was perfectly clear when considered with the other items.</p><p>He set the rope, the cuffs, and the oil on the small table by the far wall, and sat down in the chair next to it to wait. The million sounds of the inn—voices, clinking glasses, Jaskier's lute—faded into the background as he thought about what he was going to do.</p><p>Eventually he heard footsteps outside, and then the door creaked open. Jaskier came in, flushed and smiling still, lute in one hand and a clinking bag in the other.</p><p>It was a comfort to see him happy, before they did...what they were about to do. He saw the moment Jaskier's eyes fell on the items on the table—his eyes darkened immediately and his heart sped up as his tongue flicked out over his lips.</p><p>"So you did see them," he said, a slight breathiness creeping into his voice.</p><p>"They're new," Geralt said. He wasn't sure what question he was trying to ask, but Jaskier seemed to understand.</p><p>"Not that new," he said, laying his lute and purse down by the nightstand. "I had them made...oh, almost a year ago. I just...well, I didn't want to use them with just anyone, I guess."</p><p>Geralt felt a surprisingly fierce rush of satisfaction—Jaskier had chosen <i>him</i>—but only nodded once. For a dreadfully long moment they just looked at each other and Geralt realized, with dim alarm, that he didn't know how to <i>start</i> this.</p><p>Just as he was on the verge of panicking—if he couldn't even get the beginning right, what hope did he have of actually doing a good job?—Jaskier gave him a small smile and crossed the room to stand in front of him. Then, without a word, he knelt at Geralt's feet, bowed his head, and waited.</p><p>A strange lightning shot all through Geralt as he looked down at Jaskier. He felt suddenly like he understood something that had been, for all his contemplation, a mystery until now. They weren't even touching—they were both still clothed—but he felt almost dizzy with how much he suddenly <i>wanted</i> this, wanted Jaskier.</p><p>Feeling a good deal more confident, he slid his fingers through Jaskier's hair, petting him. Jaskier sighed and titled his head into the touch; he didn't say anything, but as Geralt continued to stroke him, the warm-bread smell of happiness filled the air.</p><p>Geralt tightened his grip on Jaskier's hair just enough to tilt his head back. Jaskier opened his eyes and looked up at him with a gaze that made his heart jump in his chest, indescribably open and peaceful.</p><p>"Stand up," Geralt said, "and take your clothes off."</p><p>Jaskier nodded and started to speak, then stopped. "Should I...call you anything?"</p><p>Geralt frowned. "Like what?"</p><p>Jaskier shrugged, smiling faintly. "'Sir' is popular."</p><p>He thought about it, tried to hear it in his mind in Jaskier's voice—<i>Yes, sir; please, sir.</i> It felt...strange, and he couldn't tell if it was in a good or bad way. "Not tonight," he said, and Jaskier just nodded, then stood and started to strip. He moved with quick, efficient motions—no playfulness, no languor—but it didn't feel grim or businesslike, somehow. It simply felt like some outer layer of Jaskier had been peeled away, and Geralt was being allowed to see the simple bare need that lay within.</p><p>When Jaskier was standing naked before him, eyes lowered, Geralt stood and in one swift motion took his face in his hands and kissed him, their bodies pressed together. He felt Jaskier's shiver, felt Jaskier's mouth open for him, soft and wanting. It wasn't like any kiss Geralt had had before; Jaskier kissed back, a little, but mostly just—<i>yielded,</i> deliciously. His breathing was speeding up, and when Geralt caught his lip between his teeth he let out a quiet, choked-off moan that Geralt thought he could listen to forever.</p><p>He stepped back, and Jaskier swayed towards him a little before stopping himself. </p><p>"You can make noise," Geralt said, and Jaskier let out a long, shaky sigh and nodded. His hands by his side were tight fists, like he was trying to hold himself back. With one finger, Geralt tilted his chin up and met his eyes. "Do you want to touch me?"</p><p>"<i>Please</i>," Jaskier said, the word bursting out of him.</p><p>"Hm." He thought about it, listened to the quick but steady beat of Jaskier's heart. "Not yet."</p><p>Jaskier bit his lip, eyes fluttering closed as he drew in a deep breath, and Geralt watched with more interest than he had expected to feel as his cock began to fill and stiffen.</p><p>"You like it when I tell you no?" he asked, though the answer was obvious. Jaskier flushed and nodded, and Geralt didn't know where the urge to <i>push</i> came from but he went with it. "Look at me," he said, "and use your words," letting a note of sharpness creep into his voice. </p><p>With a shudder—and a tidal wave of lust hitting Geralt's nose—Jaskier opened his eyes again. "Yes, I like it," he breathed.</p><p>"That's better," Geralt said warmly, and Jaskier made a small sound that was almost hurt, a little shocked. Evidently he liked that too, and Geralt took careful note. He felt a startling hunger to know <i>everything</i>—all Jaskier's noises, all his preferences, everything that made him shiver and moan and fall apart.</p><p>He reached over and picked up the leather cuffs, enjoying the hitch in Jaskier's breath. "Put your hands out," he said, and Jaskier extended his arms without a second's hesitation. Geralt took his time unbuckling the cuffs, as much to prepare himself as to enjoy the sight of Jaskier's anticipation. The leather was good quality, but not quite as smooth as it could be, still stiff and unworn; it was obviously going to leave marks. The thought that he would see those marks tomorrow morning, like so many times before, and know they were <i>his</i>—</p><p>He felt almost dizzy as he pulled the first cuff closed around Jaskier's wrist, tightening it just enough to be snug. He hurried through the second, and as he pulled the strap tight Jaskier let out a long sigh, flexing his wrists in the restraints, his satisfaction obvious in the way his shoulders relaxed, and the scent of comfort and safety that floated up from his skin.</p><p>Geralt had planned, more or less, what he was going to do, but he felt utterly derailed by that sight and scent, by how <i>happy</i> it made Jaskier for Geralt to bind him. He surged forward and kissed him again, Jaskier's hands trapped between them, and slid his hands down Jaskier's sides, pulling his hips in tight against Geralt's own. Jaskier whimpered into the kiss, bucking his hips forward as his by now full erection rubbed against Geralt's clothes. Geralt kissed him, hard, deep, taking everything Jaskier offered and still there was more. He shoved a hand between them and wrapped it around Jaskier's cock—not stroking or moving, just feeling the delicious heat of it, the way it jumped in his hand. The way it made Jaskier moan brokenly, and the tension Geralt could feel in his hips as he struggled not to thrust up into Geralt's grip.</p><p>He was trying so <i>hard</i>, and it made Geralt lose his mind a little. "Hold still," he murmured, lips brushing Jaskier's cheek, "there you go, that's good."</p><p>Jaskier groaned, his voice trembling. "Please..."</p><p>"Yes," Geralt said, and stepped back. He waited a moment for Jaskier to catch his breath and meet his eyes again, and then said, "Get on the bed. Face down."</p><p>With surprising grace, Jaskier climbed onto the bed and lowered himself, turning his face to one side to breathe. Geralt took the rope and, working quickly, tied it first to the metal ring between the cuffs, and then to the headboard. He didn't miss how Jaskier tugged on it a little as soon as it was secure, or how his hips stuttered against the sheets when he found he couldn't move.</p><p>With one hand, he stroked a long slow path down Jaskier's back, loving the way Jaskier lifted up into his touch like a dog eager to be pet. He pulled Jaskier's hips up, and Jaskier cooperated easily, shifting up onto his knees, face still flat against the mattress. For a minute Geralt just looked, a deep thrill filling his whole body at the sight, and the way Jaskier held perfectly still for him, letting himself be looked at though he so clearly wanted so badly to be touched again.</p><p>For that matter, Geralt wanted to touch him—wanted to run his hands over every part of him, kiss down his long back, spread his ass apart and kiss him there too (a thought which should have shocked him, but felt somehow familiar and right). But this wasn't about what <i>he</i> wanted.</p><p>Standing by the side of the bed, making sure Jaskier was watching him, Geralt slowly unbuckled his belt and pulled it out, folding it in half. Watching Jaskier's face, listening to his breath, he sensed only arousal and eagerness, and he gently rested the belt across the swell of Jaskier's ass. Jaskier's eyes slid closed again and he arched his back obscenely, lifting up into the touch of the leather, and something about the sight made Geralt feel as though <i>he'd</i> been hit. With only a sharp inhale as warning, he raised the belt and brought it down hard with a loud snap.</p><p>He heard Jaskier draw in a sharp breath, but his eyes were fixed on the red stripe painted across his ass.  Geralt hit him again, and again, and on the third one Jaskier whimpered softly, but he didn't pull away. Geralt breathed in deeply, though he hardly needed to; the scent of sex was thick in the room. </p><p>He lay the belt across Jaskier's back in a silent question and got a hungry moan in reply, so he hit him there too, and for several minutes the room was filled with the slap of leather and Jaskier's sounds—first quiet whimpers, and then, as Geralt brought the belt down steadily, louder and more desperate. When his skin was red and angry from his thighs to his shoulders, and he was moaning something incoherent that sounded like a plea, Geralt stopped. He was breathing hard, he realized, though it had hardly been any exertion at all compared to what he was used to—but his heart was racing nonetheless.</p><p>He dropped the belt on the floor and ran a hand down Jaskier's back and over his ass, feeling the heat and occasional welts where the edge of the belt had dug in cruelly, digging his fingers into the sorest-looking spots as Jaskier shuddered under his touch. Without planning to, he bent down and pressed a kiss into the small of Jaskier's back. "You took that very well," he said, and Jaskier groaned like Geralt had hit him again.</p><p>Geralt was vaguely aware of his mind racing, somewhere below conscious thought—of a great surge of <i>feeling,</i> like a wave on the horizon roaring in towards shore. But he knew what was expected next, and it wasn't as if he didn't want to do it. He could sort out his thoughts afterward, when Jaskier was taken care of.</p><p>He undressed quickly and fetched the oil from the table. The glass bottle clinked against the wood and Jaskier's breath hitched audibly at the sound. "Please," he said, barely a breath.</p><p>"Yes," Geralt said, and watched the way the word shivered across Jaskier's skin. He wanted to say yes a thousand times, to give and give and give, unreasonably wanted it. But for now there was this.</p><p>He suspected that Jaskier expected him to kneel behind him, hold his hips and fuck him like that. He felt that he ought to; after all, the whole purpose of this—encounter was to give Jaskier what he needed. Instead, he knelt beside Jaskier on the bed and wordlessly guided his body back down and then onto his right side. He had to loosen the knots for a moment, to give the rope more slack, but he made sure to tie them again tightly once he had Jaskier arranged. It was easy to move him; he went where Geralt put him, perfectly pliant, after a first soft noise of confusion.</p><p>He remembered to murmur, "Very good," because Jaskier so clearly liked it, and then lay down behind him, lining them up head to toe. Heat still radiated off Jaskier's back, and he hissed as Geralt pressed up against every sore spot, but he didn't jerk away. In fact he leaned back into the contact, wrists straining at the cuffs as he tried to get impossibly closer. Something about it made Geralt swallow hard and close his eyes for a second to collect himself.</p><p>Then he slid a hand under Jaskier's thigh and pushed his leg up towards his chest. He pressed two fingers to Jaskier's lips and his mouth opened instantly, letting Geralt push them inside, but he didn't do anything else—just lay there, still and waiting, breath whistling wetly past the digits in his mouth.</p><p>How deep down he must be, Geralt thought, and felt a pang of—something, some kind of longing that he ignored, and said, "Get them wet." Immediately, Jaskier started to suck on his fingers, working his tongue over and around them and making soft muffled hungry sounds. "That's right," Geralt said, and kissed the back of his neck, before pulling them free and quickly, before they could start to dry, pressing between Jaskier's cheeks to nudge at his hole. The vial of oil was still clutched in his other hand, but he remembered Jaskier saying, <i>so it hurts a little,</i> and pushed past the little resistance he found, sinking both fingers in as deep as they would go.</p><p>Jaskier arched against him, gasping. "Oh—fuck—"</p><p>"Tell me," Geralt said, twisting his fingers, not quite aware that he was speaking.</p><p>"Tell—wha—" He pulled them out and thrust in again, and Jaskier's voice dissolved into an open-mouthed whimper.</p><p>"How it feels. What you want." Another thrust. Jaskier's spit was almost dry by now, and his fingers caught as he fucked him with them, but Jaskier's hips never slowed in rolling back against his hand.</p><p>"Good," Jaskier gasped, "it feels—burns, <i>good,</i> fuck, I want more..."</p><p>Geralt had paid little attention to his own desires so far, but he was unsurprised to realize he was hard, the head of his cock rubbing against the small of Jaskier's back as Jaskier squirmed on his fingers. "Yeah," he said, a little hoarsely, and pulled them out quickly enough that Jaskier hissed in a sharp breath. Drawing away enough to slick himself up—making sure not to use too much—felt like torture, and not just for him, judging by Jaskier's agonized whine.</p><p>He lined himself up and pushed in slowly, one hand gripping Jaskier's hip and pulling him back as Geralt inched inside. Jaskier's head rolled back against his shoulder as his breath escaped in short little huffs, arms going taut as he strained and twisted in his restraints.</p><p>It was almost too much—the tight clench of his ass and the raw heat of his body, pressed tight against Geralt so that he could feel Jaskier's heartbeat thudding in his own chest; the overwhelming urge to <i>hold</i> him; the sudden tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe. He took a deep breath, letting Jaskier's scent flood his senses, and it calmed him a little, enough to thrust home and settle there, fully seated, before hitching a leg up around Jaskier's and starting to move.</p><p>When he had a rhythm going he gave in to the urge hammering at him and wrapped his arm tightly around Jaskier's chest. Jaskier bucked against his touch instantly and moaned as Geralt's grip tightened to iron, holding him in place.</p><p>"Please," he gasped, "please, please," and Geralt kissed his throat and said <i>yes, yes, yes,</i> and fucked him as hard and as fast as Jaskier seemed to want. </p><p>After a minute, though, he heard Jaskier's breathing change. The faint scent of fear hit his nose and he stopped moving abruptly. "What's wrong?"</p><p>It took a second for Jaskier to answer, during which time a thousand terrible scenarios unwound in Geralt's mind, but he didn't allow himself to panic; it was simply not acceptable. He waited, and eventually Jaskier said, voice a little hoarse, "Too tight," arching his chest against Geralt's arm.</p><p>He let go instantly and Jaskier made a protesting noise. "No, it's good, just—" He paused for a deep breath, and the sour tang of fear dissipated completely. "Tight is good. Just not so much that it's hard to breathe?"</p><p>Abruptly Geralt remembered what he'd said before—<i>I don't much care for being choked, or—</i> and wanted to kick himself. But that was hardly helpful, so he just put his arm back and carefully, incrementally tightened his grip until Jaskier nodded and said, voice thick with arousal, "Yeah, good—" and dropped a kiss into his hair as he slowly started to fuck him again. He'd softened a little when he'd smelled the fear, but the way Jaskier wriggled against him was taking care of that in a hurry.</p><p>He lost himself in Jaskier's sounds, for a while, his own mounting arousal taking a distant back seat even as he thrust steadily. He wanted to catalogue every noise, every whimper and hiss and trembling moan, to learn them by heart. He listened to the other sounds too—to Jaskier's rapidly accelerating heartbeat, and the way his breath hitched and caught when Geralt drove home at the right angle. Still, it somehow took him by surprise when Jaskier panted, "Please, I need—please can I come, please—" As if he'd forgotten that this activity had an endpoint, and wasn't just for its own sake.</p><p>His first instinct, again, was to say yes, but he bit it back, knowing that wasn't what Jaskier really wanted. "Not yet," he murmured into Jaskier's ear, and slid his hand down to wrap tight and unmoving around Jaskier's cock, feeling it jump in his grip. Jaskier moaned, a piteous sound, and shivered against him. But he didn't try to fuck Geralt's hand, and it amazed him anew how <i>deep</i> Jaskier was into this space, that he could hold himself back like that. "I know you want it," he said, letting the warmth in his chest suffuse his voice. "But hold on a little longer for me."</p><p>Jaskier nodded frantically, breathing fast and hard. It was probably time, Geralt decided, and started to fuck at the pace his body demanded, letting himself rush up to the edge and, a few moments later, spill over, grinding his hips against Jaskier's ass as he came inside him with a raw cry that tore his throat, shocking himself at the sound of it.</p><p>When he came back to himself a moment later Jaskier was clenching fiercely around him, almost too tight, and his hips trembled with the effort of holding still. Slowly, Geralt eased out of him and pulled back just enough to shift him onto his back. Jaskier stared up at him, blinking and dazed.</p><p>He was utterly, hopelessly vulnerable—tied up and open, so raw he was practically bleeding—and Geralt felt a powerful surge of emotion, something too deep and primal to name. He lifted his hand to Jaskier's mouth. "Get it wet," he said, and Jaskier instantly started licking his palm, working his mouth between licks to bring up the saliva.</p><p>When his hand was wet enough, he pulled it away and wrapped it around Jaskier's cock, stroking tip to base in long motions, moving quickly, the way he liked it himself when he was close. "Come on, then," he purred, never looking away from Jaskier's eyes, "come for me," and after a few seconds more Jaskier did, tugging almost violently at the cuffs as his hips bucked up into Geralt's hand—like he needed to feel them, tight and unyielding, to push himself over the edge.</p><p>Geralt worked him through it until he started to whimper and pull away, and then he let go. Jaskier hadn't exactly given him detailed instructions for how to take care of him afterwards, but he'd liked it when Geralt had held him, before. So he lay back down beside him and did just that, wrapping an arm and leg around Jaskier, pressing their foreheads together. He had some obscure sense that Jaskier might not want to be untied right away, and it seemed to be accurate, because Jaskier didn't show any sign of discomfort, just melted into Geralt's hold as his breath shifted from shallow gulps to something slower and deeper. </p><p>When his heartbeat was just above normal, Geralt put his hand over the cuffs and said, quietly, "Are you ready to take them off?"</p><p>Jaskier nodded, eyes closed, then whispered, "Yeah," and held perfectly still as Geralt unbuckled each cuff. When Geralt looked back at him his eyes were open again, and he watched with something deep and a little strange in his gaze as Geralt brought each wrist to his mouth and kissed the raw red marks, one by one.  He wasn't sure why he did it, except that he felt seized by an inexpressible tenderness, and  he wanted to, and maybe that was reason enough.</p><p><i>Say nice things,</i> he remembered, but he couldn't think of anything to say, and it seemed all right anyway. He settled down next to Jaskier, and all Jaskier seemed to want was to touch him, hands ranging up and down his sides and his back, tangling in his hair. It soothed some part of Geralt that he hadn't realized needed soothing, and for a long time they lay there like that, holding and touching and breathing. Most likely the building could have burned down around them and Geralt wouldn't have noticed.</p><p>Eventually Jaskier rolled on top of him, a pleasantly heavy weight, and said, "Thank you. That was..." He smiled, a little shyly. "Really nice."</p><p>Geralt found himself smiling back without meaning to. It felt strange and creaky on his face. "It was good?"</p><p>Jaskier bent forward and kissed him, quick and soft. "It was very good."</p><p>Geralt wanted to kiss him again—wanted to find out every kind of kiss Jaskier could give him. But he just nodded, instead, and let Jaskier slip off of him and out of bed to find a waterskin and chug half of it before offering the rest to Geralt.</p><p>"You should drink," he said, and grinned. "It's thirsty work, you know."</p><p>Geralt snorted, but he drank, and it was delicious enough that he knew Jaskier was right.</p><p>There was only one bed, so it wasn't a surprise, or any kind of statement, when Jaskier came back to it. Geralt shifted to the side, making room for Jaskier to lie without touching him, if he wanted. After all, he seemed fine now, any risk of sadness or distress gone. Geralt didn't intend to presume.</p><p>He didn't have to, though; Jaskier slipped under the covers and moved closer, resting his head—a little cautiously—on Geralt's chest. "Is this all right?" he asked, and perhaps he could still plunge into that strange sadness, because his voice wavered a little.</p><p>For a second Geralt couldn't answer, but he could rest his arm on Jaskier's back, thumb playing back and forth over the nape of his neck, and he felt Jaskier relax against him well before he managed to choke out, "Yeah, it's good," which was somehow the most difficult thing he'd said all night.</p><p>It satisfied, apparently; Jaskier let out a long, contented breath, and a couple minutes later he was asleep. Geralt felt as though he could lie there awake for a long time, turning every moment over in his mind—but he decided not to, at least not tonight. Tomorrow, he would reckon with his newly ungovernable emotions, and probably have an awkward conversation with Jaskier, and maybe—this he could think only as sleep started to claim him—kiss him again, and fuck, without the games this time, which felt infinitely more dangerous. </p><p><i>No reward without danger,</i> he thought dizzily, certain there was something wrong with that proposition but not awake enough to figure out what—and then he slept, deeply and without dreams.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow me on <a href="http://some-stars.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> for Witcher shitposts, WIP updates, occasional prompt fills, and just because I very much need people to talk to about this stupid, stupid show. :D? :D? Also if you would like to reblog this story, you can <a href="https://some-stars.tumblr.com/post/619850427871166464/warm-you-like-the-sunshine-somestars-the">do so here!</a></p><p>(I swear I'm still working on the kidfic sequel, it's just very very hard because it has a plot, while Geraskier smut with feels is the easiest thing in the world, and I am weak. But it's coming! Eventually!)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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